


Look Back in Anger

by boiblunder



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accidents, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Reader Has Anger Issues, School Yard Fights, Stealing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boiblunder/pseuds/boiblunder
Summary: (Y/N) arrives at the St.Francis Group home, trying to find her way in this new, strange place, where the kids aren’t kind, except for two brothers.
Relationships: Samuel Drake/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. St. Francis

**Author's Note:**

> The reader is 10 years old here, Sam is 12, and Nathan is 7.  
> please lemme know what you guys think! xoxo

“Come on (Y/N). It’ll be nice here. You’ll make new friends”

(Y/N) knew the social worker was lying, but she hoped he wasn’t. As she walked through the gates of Saint Francis’ Group Home, she clung desperately to the toy car in her hands. The group home felt like a maze as the social worker escorted her around, the old buildings looping and backing onto each other, the red brick towers and stone courtyards made it feel like a castle, and (Y/N) felt like the lonely princess locked away forever, like the one in that story her father used to read to her, though she can't remember the name. She had butterflies in her stomach, but not the nice kind.

The first day seemed to pass in a blur. She met a lot of nuns, and a man called Father Duffy. He was friendly and smelled like almonds and mothballs. In fact, the whole building smells like mothballs. Sister Anne showed (Y/N) her new bed in the girls' dormitory. Next to the box spring frame was a few shelves and a chest of drawers. The other girls there stared at her and she wanted to shrink into a mouse and scuttle away under the floorboards. 

“Holly?” Sister Anne called. A girl, a little older than (Y/N) with messy blonde hair, a strand of which was in her mouth and scuffed knees came over, looking unimpressed. 

“Yes, sister?”

“Holly this is (Y/N). I’m assigning you to show her around. Make her feel welcome.”

Holly rolled her eyes and scoffed. 

“Holly.” the sister said sternly. “I’m sure you remember what it was like when you first came here. I want you to make (Y/N)’s first week a bit better.”

Holly looked down bashfully, her tail between her legs. “Yes, sister.’

“Good.” Sister Anne then turned to the room. “And that goes for everyone else here. Make (Y/N) feel welcome here at St. Francis.” And she left the dorm. 

(Y/N) sat on her bed, unsure what to do next. “Sister Anne’s one of the nice ones, so don’t piss her off,” Holly stated, joining her on the bed. 

(Y/N) didn’t reply.

“We also have to say the Lord’s Prayer before bed. Do you know it?”

(Y/N) shook her head. 

“Do you even talk?”

Nothing.

She scoffed and left her on the bed. “We got another airhead girls,” she said giggling with the other girls behind her. 

(Y/N) unpacked her things and climbed under the covers and pulled that toy car close to her chest. She tried not to think about the bad butterflies swarming in her belly, or think of her dad, and his smile, how he would always pick her up and throw her, even as she got older, how his hands were perpetually covered in car grease and he always smelled of petrol. She tried not to think of the men that came to the house that day, their dirty smirks and harsh words, or her father’s cries from the other room. She tried not to think of all things, but she couldn’t. She tried not to cry, but she couldn’t. She knows the other girls heard.

* * *

If the first day was a blur, (Y/N)’s first week was far worse. Holly did show her around, but once the nuns looked away she would leave and rejoin her friends. (Y/N) didn’t speak to the other girls, she didn’t speak to anyone, and once she stayed quiet long enough they left her alone, mostly. A few would tease her, call her dumb, but mostly they were uninterested. This wasn’t the first time a kid came to St.Francis and didn’t talk. The toy car never left her person. Neither did the butterflies. She felt like it if she opened her mouth, they’d come swarming up and out, and she’d choke.

During class, she found herself gazing out the window. The only part of the day she liked was mass, where she wasn’t expected to talk because she didn’t know the prayers and hymns yet. The chapel was also her favourite building. The air seemed lighter in there, and on a sunny day, the stained glass shone brightly, creating colours and shapes that followed the curves of the stone walls. While everyone else grumbled about the hard wooden pews, or how Father Duffy would occasionally lose his train of thought and start over his lengthy sermons, (Y/N) just enjoyed feeling peaceful here. It wasn’t so much the praying and the hymns and the sermons and the psalms, but the quiet of an old building.

During recess, as with everything else, (Y/N) kept to herself. She’d find a quiet corner in the school library (if you could call it that, it was two shelves of old donated books), she’d read or draw, but after a few lunchtimes in there one of the nuns insisted she go out and join the other kids. She entered the playground, a sudden murmuration in her stomach made her feel sick. She found an empty bench and continued to read her book, a fantasy novel called Tomb Of The Ancients. As she flicked from page to page, enthralled as the main character Abigail Armani, a powerful young witch (with a pet raven with three eyes) found herself in a pit, held captive by the dastardly Balthier Crimson, when suddenly - a grubby, sausage-fingered hand pulled the book away from her.

Before her, another kid, a boy, about 12 or 13 stood looking at the cover of the book. He had badly cut brown hair, a missing tooth and some kind of dirt over his face. He was a heavy-set kid and clearly had had his first growth spurt before some of the other boys because this was 3 inches taller than rest of them, and a good 5 or 6 inches on (Y/N).

“What you reading, new kid?” he asked, smacking his lips together loudly, staring down at (Y/N). There was another boy behind him, the same age but smaller, with shaggy blonde hair, his arms crossed trying to look cool. “You know this is our bench right?” he said harshly. 

(Y/N) said nothing, just stared at them, waiting for her book. She clutched her toy car for dear life, hoping it would calm her down.

The other boy piped up, “I know you’re new here, so you don’t really get the rules, but this is here mine and Billy’s spot. So you better scram.”

“What you got in your hand there, barf face?” The sausage-fingered kid, who she now knew as Billy pulled (Y/N) up by her wrist and instantly she dropped the toy car. Still holding onto her wrist, Billy picked it up.

“Awwww” he mocked “Does she like to play with wittle toys?” The other boy laughed as (Y/N) struggled against him.

“I think I’ll keep this,” Billy said triumphantly.

“Give it back!” (Y/N) screamed.

“Oh! So you can talk! No, I don’t think I will.” He threw (Y/N) aside and she hit the concrete hard. She couldn’t let him take it, it was all she had, all she had of him. Her pulse felt like gasoline, acidic and incendiary, her heart thumping so loudly she could hear ringing, and the butterflies that were swirling in her stomach started spilling out of her.

Without a thought, she leapt from the ground, arms around the boy’s neck as she pushed him towards the ground. He fell face first and let out a cry, as he turned all he could see was fists wailing down on him. She couldn’t stop, she didn’t want to stop. She hit his face again and again and again as he cried in pain. A weight hit her left-hand side, the other boy pummeling into her, pushing her off of Billy. 

“You bitch!” he screamed. 

He tried to pin her to the ground, but her legs kicked ferociously and caught his chin. He seemed shocked by the sudden spring of soreness, staring at the wild girl, when her other foot caught him square in the nose and he fell back, clutching it as blood gushed down his shirt. She got up and walked over to Billy, taking her toy car from him. Her throat suddenly felt coarse and sore, she realised she had been screaming the whole time, till she got the car back. Seconds after she noticed all the kids in the playground had stopped playing and had circled them, cheering and yelling as the fight broke out. Soon after she saw a gaggle of nuns flying to the scene.

“EVERYONE INSIDE NOW!” It was Sister Christine. The children fled immediately, no-one messed with her. She had such a scowl, that when under it you felt as if she’d turned you to stone. 

“YOU!” She pointed towards (Y/N). “You’re coming with me.” She turned to the other nuns: “Takes these boys to the infirmary. Now. I’ll deal with them later.”

Sister Christine took (Y/N) to Father Duffy’s office and she’d never been yelled at so much in her life. She went on for about 15 minutes before she took a breath while (Y/N) kept her head down, silent as before the outburst. After it seemed Sister Christine wasn’t stopping, Father Duffy excused her.

“I know this is not an easy process. I know Billy and Kieran are not the best-behaved pair, they’ve been in this office a number times.” He paused thoughtfully “I don’t think you started that fight over nothing. Do you wanna tell me what happened with those boys?” He peered down at (Y/N) trying to gauge her emotions, but she said nothing. He sighed.

“Okay. I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt this once. I know what happened with your family and I- I know adjustment can be hard. However, I can't have you tormenting the other kids can I? Sp I best not see you here again about this kind of behaviour. Every moment of every day brings a fresh beginning, so tomorrow, I want you to try to be better than you behaved today, okay? As with each new moment God continually makes us new. Go and say 5 Hail Mary’s in the chapel.” He opened the door, and (Y/N) fled to the chapel. Although the fight was long over, (Y/N)’s blood still felt hot under her skin, as if she was going to explode again at any moment.

* * *

It was pleasant to be there, in the chapel, alone. (Y/N) saw the statue of the Virgin Mary, carved marble tears falling from her lifeless eyes. She didn’t say the Hail Marys, what was the point? She sat in the pews and fiddled with the toy car and she closed her eyes and her father’s words came to her.

_It was 4th grade, and some girls had called her mum names, a junkie, a slut, and every other bad word they knew. (Y/N) cried the whole way home. He swept her up in a big hug, the smell of petrol ever-present under her nose._

_“You don’t let nobody push you around yeah?” He said. “Someone hits you, picks on you, you stand up for yourself okay? They hit you, you hit back harder.” He placed her on the ground and put his hands up with a smile, “C’mon, show me what you’re made of.”_

(Y/N) opened her eyes, Mary’s expression unchanged, crying tears of sympathy, but not for her, she thought. 

As (Y/N) walked back to the dorms, she could see the other kids eyeing her with dirty looks, whispering, giggling. She could herself get hot under the skin again, the bad butterflies twisting and contorting. She wanted to let them out. She saw Billy and Kieran in a group of boys, staring at her, their expressions wrought with disdain. Billy had a black eye and few other bruises, Kieran had cotton stuffed up his nose, a bandage holding it all in place.

“What?!” she snarled in their direction and they turned back.

Someone coughed behind (Y/N) “Uh-hum.” It was Sister Christine, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Haven’t you had enough trouble for one day. To the dorms. Now.” 

* * *

(Y/N)’s following weeks at St. Francis’s wasn’t much better. The nuns no longer let her sit in the library, all of them keeping a watchful eye on her, and they weren’t the only ones. Every room she entered was met with eyes from the other kids. She would hear them talking:

_“That’s the one that kicked the shit out of Billy and Kieran”_

_“Apparently they asked to sit next to her and she went mad”_

_“She tried to bite Kieran's nose off like a dog”_

_“She’s completely psycho”_

Each time (Y/N) bite her tongue the best she could, sometimes (Y/N) could feel the heat building, begging to get out of her and start walking towards whoever was gossiping, a nun would step in when she saw (Y/N) give in to her temper. 5 Hail Mary’s were prescribed every time.

It was lunchtime, and (Y/N) had found a regular spot in the playground where she could sit quietly, and due to her new reputation as a ‘psycho’, the other kids steered clear of her. Billy and Kieran would occasionally shoot her a look but were careful not to start another altercation, they didn’t want to be in Father Duffy’s office either. As she read, she heard shouting. As she got up and walked around, she saw a kid, seven or eight years old, fighting with Billy. The younger kid was leaning upwards, reaching for a white leather notebook, held high above the bully’s head in his hand.

"Hey!” she yelled, but they didn’t care.

“Give it!” the young boy yelled, and with a harsh push he was on the floor, but only for a second before leaping up and tackling the older boy down to the ground. Punches were thrown and the playground started moving in to watch, “FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT” everyone chanted. (Y/N) watched this feisty kid fight, but eventually, the older, and the significantly larger kid was pummeling into him.

“HEY!” She yelled again, she could see the tears well in the young boy’s eyes, still furious and determined to get his notebook back. He looked devastated and desperate, trying to kick back against the bully, but failing. 

As she saw him like this, her blood boiled over and (Y/N) broke through the crowd “Get off him!” and she went for Billy. She barreled into his side, pinning him to the floor under her knees and driving her fists into his face. 

“You fucker!” she yelled as Billy pushed her off, getting a solid kick to her gut, knocking the wind out of her. The young boy was now standing, albeit with a black eye. (Y/N) stood up, standing in front of him, facing the bully. “Give it back” she demanded. 

“Whatya gonna do psycho?” Billy spat.

(Y/N) swung wide, missing him as he stepped back then launched for her. She fell back against the concrete, hitting her head hard. Billy punched her square in the nose and she instantly felt the blood flowing. Another fist hit her, and another and as she lay there, it was as if time stilled, watching the fists raining down on her, and she smiled. She watched, as if in slow motion as a foot came square into Billy’s cheek, spinning his jaw as he fell off of (Y/N). The young boy had rejoined the fight, continuing to kick him while he was down. All (Y/N) could do was laugh at all. 

Before (Y/N) could get a few more punches in, Sister Christine arrived, splitting up the fight. “ENOUGH!” and the crowd scrambled away. “You three? Why should I expect anything else? Father Duffy’s. NOW!” She commanded. 

(Y/N), the young boy, and Billy all sat outside Father Duffy’s office, waiting to be called in. Billy held his jaw sulking, the young boy held some wrapped up ice to his eye, and (Y/N) tried to wipe up the blood under her nose, but the blood kept flowing. Her leg twitched up and down constantly, staring at Billy, daring him to say something. Father Duffy poked his head out of the office “Billy.” he said curtly, and he walked into the office.

“I’m Nathan by the way. But you can call me Nate if you want. Or Nathan. Whatever.”

“I’m (Y/N).” she said quietly.

“I know. People have been talking about you.” He stated. “Thanks for getting my notebook back,” he said sheepishly. (Y/N) simply nudged his shoulder with hers. They sat in silence till they were called in. 

* * *

(Y/N) was back in the chapel, this time with 10 Lord’s Prayers and 15 Hail Mary’s to get through. Now that she (mostly) knew them, she knelt in the pews, placed her hands together, and said them. 

As she was halfway through number seven of her Lord’s Prayers when -

“You know no-one actually says their prayers right?”

She turned to look to see a 12-year-old boy in a long sleeve baseball shirt. (Y/N) shot him a look, (the one that made the other kids turn away for staring at her) but he just smirked. 

“At least not all of them.” He joined her in the pews and held out his hand “I’m Sam.” he said. 

She said nothing, just turned her face to the Virgin Mary, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands, hoping he’d leave her alone. 

“Okay, so not a big talker.” 

Another moment of silence.

“I’m Nathan’s older brother.” He began and she turned to look at him. “I -uh I guess I wanted to thank you for looking out for him today. It shoulda been me with the broken nose.” he gestured to his face, looking at her sympathetically.

“Soooo… as a thank you, I swiped some snacks from the candy shop,” he opened his rucksack, tipped it upside down and poured out the candy, Skittles, Nerds, Sour Patch Kids, fizzers, lollipops and countless bars of chocolate. “Nathan’s already got some so.” (Y/N) had never seen so many in, well, ever. She picked up her favourites, the Nerds. 

He got up from the pews and started making his way back out of the chapel.

“Wait-” (Y/N) said.

“So you _do_ talk?” he said raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes a little, “I can’t eat all of this,” she said, holding out a chocolate bar towards him.

“Well if you _must_ insist.” Sam said rejoining (Y/N) in the pews.

They ate in silence for a while, till she spoke again. “I’m (Y/N).”

He wiped his now sticky hand on his jeans and placed it out in front of her “Nice to meet you (Y/N). I’m Sam.”

This time she took his hand and shook it.


	2. Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N), Sam and Nathan get closer during their time at St.Francis, getting into fights, sneaking out and generally causing trouble. But on a host summers day in Boston, one of their escapades goes a little too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics = readers inner thoughts.

During the next six months at St Francis, you garnered a bigger reputation on the schoolyard. The fights you’d had with Billy and Kieran were only the beginning. The other kids walked around you, careful not to say anything that might provoke one of your rages, as if you were a time bomb, because, well, you were. You didn’t know why you’d always blow up at people, hit them, kick them; all you knew was that it felt right. The feeling of another body hitting the ground beneath you, the sound of your nose breaking as they hit back, the feeling of the blood flowing down your face, fists and feet flying everywhere. And even after the fight, the sensation of your hands aching after hitting someone, looking down and seeing your knuckles scraped red-raw and bleeding, the ache as blue bruises formed all over your body, the pain in the side of your ribs as you tried to breathe normally, the sting of the iodine in your open wounds. All you knew was that all of that felt better than how you felt the rest of the day. No matter how beat up you got, you always left Father Duffy's office with a smile.

Sam and Nathan had become your only friends at St Francis. During your first 2 months you still barely said two words to them, but Sam always sat with you during recess. It confused you at first because he didn’t try to talk to you, he just sat there, reading some history books. You’d turn your back, give him the silent treatment, trying to get him to leave you alone. Once you realised he wasn’t budging, you told him to “fuck off” but that only brought a smile to his face. After a while you gave in, saying the occasional word or two, then those two words became a sentence, and then a sentence became 4 or 5, and finally, you were having conversations.

The first time you realised that Sam and Nathan were actually your friends was 3 months after you helped Nathan get his notebook back. You’d been getting into fights nearly every week, mostly with Billy and Kieran. This time they had cornered you near the dorms, Billy being his usual pig-headed self, Kieran being his little cheerleader, occasionally getting a hit in. Billy had you by your ponytail, face against the cold wood wall. He pulled your head back and slammed it back into the wall, your head pounding. You struggled, trying to free yourself from his grip, getting more and more frustrated, angrier and angrier. Then out of nowhere, you heard a cry from Billy and his hand fell from your hair. You turned to see Sam pushing Billy away. Kieran stepped in, hitting Sam square in the face, he fell back into you. You felt his back collide into you and your head hit the wall again, but it only seemed to enrage you more; you pushed Sam off of you and lept for Billy, kicking him in the stomach. Kieran tried to pull you off but Sam tackled him to the floor. You and Sam spent the next week on kitchen cleaning duty. Since then, you, him and Nathan were joined at the hip.

You liked Sam, he never asked you dumb questions like why you were quiet, or why you were angry. If you didn’t wanna talk one day, he would busy himself with something but didn’t leave your side. Nathan was a somewhat shy kid, often trying to be like his big brother. He was always so excited to see you, sometimes he’d read his comic to you or show you how good his magic tricks were getting. You don’t know why he was excited to see you, but it made you happy that he was. 

* * *

It was an overcast day in October and you sat outside Father Duffy’s office leaning back against the wall, eyes closed holding your sore ribs.

“Who’s the lucky fella this time?”

You opened your eyes to see Sam, smiling at you.

“Lucky lady this time, Lexi. Though I probably shouldn’t’ve gone for her when she had a baseball bat in her hands.”

Sam laughed hard, “You total dip! I mean Lexi isn’t that scary but with a baseball bat? C’mon (Y/N). You should’ve come got me.”

“I was fine.”

“You’re busted lip says otherwise.”

You giggled a little but soon stopped. “Please don’t make me laugh. My ribs hurt.”

Lexi left Father Duffy’s office, shooting daggers at you and Sam. She flicked her hair at you and turned down the hall.

“(Y/N) come in now please,” Father Duffy said sternly.

“Go. I’ll see you later,” you told Sam and entered his office for your now weekly slap on the wrists. 

* * *

You walked to the chapel for your penance, only to find Sam there waiting for you in the pews.

“What did you get?”

“A _lot_ of Hail Mary’s.” You said as you sat next to him carefully, trying not to aggravate your injuries.

“Oh, that’s not too bad. No-one does them anyway.”

“Not just that though, I’m confined to the girls’ dorm for 2 weeks. Schoolwork and everything.”

“Shit. Well, I was gonna suggest this later but seeing as you're locked down from tomorrow,” he leaned in close, whispering “whaddya say to a little prison break?”

“Sam I’m grounded indefinitely.”

“Yeah well they don’t have to know,” he said with his wry smile.

“We don’t have any money. What are we gonna do once we’re outside?”

“Who says we need money?”

* * *

You stood on the dormitory rooftop, looking down.

“Sam I can’t do it. I’m going back.”

“Wouldja just- C’mon (Y/N) just jump.”

“I’m gonna fall!”

“You won’t! If you miss, I’ll catch you” he said. You looked at him, his hand outstretched, a warm smile on his face. “C'mon.... please.”

“No. I’m not doing it, I'll just head back to the dorms.”

“What are ya? Chicken?”

That pissed you off. “Don’t call me chicken”

Sam put his hands under his armpits and started clucking.

“Stop it!”

“Buckbuckbuckbuckbuuuuuckk”

You sighed. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“Deal.”

You walked back as far as you could, your stomach was doing flips, you felt sick. You closed your eyes and breathed for a moment, the second you opened them you ran towards the edge of the roof and jumped. You felt the air rush past your face, your arms outstretched towards Sam, and you landed right into him. Both knocked over and winded you tried to catch your breath, before continuing on.

* * *

“Where are we going anyway, Sam?”

“Just trust me.”

It was dark now and you felt like you’d been walking forever. You kept pestering Sam for answers but he wouldn’t budge. Eventually, after wandering the streets of Boston, you came to an old building, large white stone steps leading up to matching white columns. It had an old wooden revolving door, with LIBRARY etched in the stone above.

You dropped down into the library from an open window on the roof rather inelegantly. Your legs tired from all the climbing, not to mention your ribs still killed. You looked around, eyes adjusting to the dark, the inside of this old building only lit by the streetlights outside. Behind you was a curved reception desk in old oak, ceiling-high shelves filled the rest of the large hall, some dark wooden desks filled the atrium signs hung from the walls reading “History” “Modern Languages” “Fiction” “Poetry” “Sciences” etc. It was scary being in such a large building with all the lights off. Sam landed beside you, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Not bad eh?” he said as he chucked you a torch and turned his own on. You were a bit too stunned to reply

"Do you like it?" Sam asked.

You nodded excitedly. A whole library, all to yourselves.

You spent what felt like hours looking through the shelves and shelves of books. The library felt huge, a special maze just for you. You found yourself mostly in the fantasy book section while Sam went through the history section. 

After pilfering the fantasy novel section you came across a stack of well-worn auto manuals as you wandered the old building. You grabbed them instantly, thumbing through the pages. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as before, entranced as you studied the engines shown in the manual.

“Hey, so I found a bunch of cassettes and st-” Sam stopped when he saw you sitting crossed legged, hunched over something, not turning to look at him. “Whatcha got there?” he asked.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. There was a lump in your throat.

Sam sat next to you looking concerned. “Ford V6 Engine Maintenance 1982...” he read aloud “(Y/N) why are you looking at these?” he asked jokingly. 

You looked at him and his face dropped. You were trying to tell him, but the lump in your throat just got bigger and bigger. He scooched closer to you.

“My...” you tried to say. “My dad... was a... was a mechanic,” you eventually spat out. Sam only looked at you. You stared down, flicking through the dusty pages. “He.. he had loads of these things. Back at home.” 

Sam looked down, thinking about his father, though he didn’t like to do that. He thought of his home, of what he could remember. His mother's white leather notebooks strewn over the kitchen table. “My mum was a historian,” he said after a few moments of silence

“Is that why you’re always reading history books?” You asked.

He nodded sadly. 

You both sat in silence for a moment more. It felt comfortable.

“C’mon let’s go,” You finally said, stuffing the manuals in your backpack and quietly wiping a tear from your eye. You’re sure Sam saw it but he didn’t say anything thankfully.

* * *

The next 2 years at St.Francis passed much the same as your first six months there. You, Sam and Nathan, became as thick as thieves, quite literally. You never had the same knack for pinching things that Sam did, and you especially weren't as good as Nathan because of his practice with magic tricks, but if there was a way to get into trouble together, you guys had done it. Your temper however never quelled, you were the main brawler of the group. Billy and Kieran became your worst enemies, every time you saw them, or they saw either yourself, Sam or Nathan, a fight would surely break out. If you were there, you’d make sure of it. Occasionally you and Sam fell out and would kick the shit out of each other, but it never lasted long.

You and Sam would hide in the rafters of the chapel ditching class, sneak out every now and then to explore the city. You’d go back to the library and steal a few books, but it was always the motor manuals that you always took. In fact, anything on cars you could find, you took back to the dorms, hiding them under your bed. It was the only thing that made you feel close to your father. Sam also never asked you more about it since the first time you went, which you were grateful for. If you tried to talk about him, you felt that you’d scream. Every time you thought of him, all you saw was his blood and the men that came to the house that day. 

* * *

It was a hot summers’ day and the city was sweltering, you could almost see the heat rising off the concrete streets. You and Sam had snuck out of St. Francis as you often did and wandered the streets of Boston. Today, you sat in a small park by the docks, gazing out over the water, bored but enjoying the warm weather as you both layed in the dry grass.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” you said.

“Me neither. I’m going aaaloooooot of places.” Sam replies.

“Oh yeah like where?”

“Hmmm, I always wanted to go to Europe. France or something”

“Hm.”

“What about you?”

“Oh anywhere. As long as it ain't here I’m happy.”

“Oh, you must have somewhere special in mind.”

“Hmmm.” You thought for a moment. “Washington State or Oregon maybe.”

Sam laughed “What?” He rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. “That's all you could think of Washington state? All that rain and cold?”

“Hey don’t judge me!” you said hitting him on the shoulder. Sam feigned an ‘ouch’ as he rubbed his shoulder. “I don’t mind the rain. And it's supposed to be really pretty there. In the countryside. Mountains and stuff. Lots of trees.”

“Okay let's go see the mountains,” he said, turning again to lay on his back once more. 

You sat up, now feeling the itch to travel, to leave everything here. St.Francis sucked and this city sucked.

“Why don’t we go now?”

“Haha yeah, you're funny,” Sam replied sarcastically.

“I’m serious, Sam.”

He sat up and looked at you, trying to see a lie on your face, but he couldn’t. You were serious.

“Okay, sure,” he said. “And how _exactly_ are we gonna make it across the country with a $1.86 between us, huh?”

You looked around and saw your opportunity. “We’ll take the car,” you said nodding to a very nice Mercedes-Benz S-class parked about 20 metres away.

“What are you on about?”

“That one there,” you said as you leapt up, making your way to the car.

“Haha don’t be silly (Y/N),” Sam said. He saw you weren’t coming back. “(Y/N)? (Y/N) seriously c’mon,” he said standing up and following you.

Filled with excitement you ignored Sam, you didn’t want him to stop this rush you were feeling. "Oh, c'mon you've stolen lots of shit, why not a car?" You picked up a brick-

“(Y/N)!!” The sound of shattering glass interrupted him. “(Y/N) what the fuck?!”

“Now, now don’t curse. What would Sister Christine say?” you said mockingly as you unlocked the door and swept the glass off the seat.

“(Y/N) we can’t take this car,” he argued. You sat down behind the wheel.

“What’s wrong with it? The colour?” You joked “C’mon let's drive somewhere!” You leant down in the front seat and ripped out the panel under the steering wheel, trying to remember all that you read in the auto manuals. Was it the red and blue wire or red and green?

“This is mad.” you heard Sam say.

“Just get in for god's sake!” the car sparked into life. “Yes!” you clapped.

Sam finally hopped in the passenger's seat. He looked at you as excitedly adjusted the seat so you could reach the pedals. “You’re mad. Can you even drive?”

You looked at him. “Let’s find out,” and you sped off. 

* * *

For your first time driving, you were doing spectacularly well, or at least you thought. Sam looked like he was gonna hurl. You felt as if the city was in the palm of your hand, you could go anywhere. 

“Could you...you please slow down?” Sam asked nervously.

“What? I’m only doing 45,”

“45 in a residential area!”

“Oh shhh. Let’s see how fast she can go.”

You made a few more turns, winding down the residential streets until you found yourself downtown and heading for the highway. An onslaught of car horns blared at you, but you ignored them. As the road opened up onto the highway, you pressed the clutch and moved into fourth gear, and slammed your foot down, weaving between the cars in front of you. You felt alive. 

Sam clutched the dashboard, sweat visibly dripping from his forehead. “Could you _please_ slow down?”

“How ‘bout some music?” you turned on the radio and _It's My Life_ came on, you turned it up and began singing along. _“It's my life! Don't you forget!”_ you sang loudly and Sam crossed his arms, trying not to enjoy himself. “ _It's my life! It never endssss! It never endsssss,”_ you continued, trying deliberately to tickle him.

“ _Funny how I blind myself, I never knew”_ you continued, you could see Sam humming along. 

_“If I was sometimes played upon, afraid to lose”_ You hit him playfully on the arm, and finally he joined in: _“I'd tell myself, what good do you do. Convince myself,”_

As the chorus came back to you both were singing at the top of your lungs: _“It's my life, Don't you forget It's my life, It never ends it never endsssss”_ as you looked at the open highway in front of you. You looked at Sam, singing along, hitting the dash like a set of drums, and you smiled. You didn’t want to leave this moment.

But this moment was short-lived, interrupted by blue and red flashing lights, sirens drowning out the music.

“Shit!”

“Fuck what do we do?” Sam shouted.

“Put your seatbelt on,” you said sternly. Sam immediately obliged. 

“Are we actually doing this?” He asked nervously.

“Well it’s not like I can let you out.” you joked. 

“Okay. I’m here for the ride.” You didn’t see, but Sam smiled as he said it.

You could see the cop car behind you in the rearview mirror, you looked ahead at the road, and smashed your foot to the floor. You could feel the air thumping against your ears, the music still blaring from the radio, the roar of the engine, the grinding sound as you badly changed gears, you could feel the sweat on your forehead, your heart was racing and your mind was going as fast as the car. 

Still, you continued, speeding past the other vehicles, most of them swerving out of your way, the cop car staying close behind you. You needed to get off the highway, and soon before they got you. You saw the bridge up ahead, the turn coming up, but you had to hold off as long as possible. The cop car had now pulled alongside of you, on Sam’s side. 

Just as you got to the bridge, you jumped 2 lanes into the turn off, nearly hitting a red pickup truck, leaving the cop car going over the bridge. Sam waved at the cops you turned. 

You followed the road, still with your foot to the floor, trying to make as many turns as you could to lose to pigs. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Sam said looking over his shoulder. 

You were so excited, you turned to look, “Rea-”

Suddenly the world had stopped, time seemed to move in slow motion around you as you felt your body leaving the car seat and being slammed back down into it, glass shimmered past you like glitter in a snowglobe, all sound seemingly pulled into a vacuum.

A few moments later you opened your eyes. Sam was shaking your shoulder, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. There were cuts on his face. You felt him pulling you from out of the car into the street. You struggled to keep your eyes open.

You opened your eyes again. This time you saw a man, shining a torch in your eye.

“....conscious. Definitely has a concussion and possible fracture in her left arm.”

“She needs to be taken downtown along with the other one.”

“Sam?” you tried to call out but it was as if you couldn’t speak. You turned your head, and you saw him, sitting on the curb, in handcuffs. He turned and looked at you, his eyes red and puffy as if he’d been crying, he looked happy to see you awake.

After the EMTs cleared you to go, a police officer put cuffs on you and piled you and Sam in the back of a cop car. He didn’t talk the whole way to the station. You both were booked for joyriding and causing an accident, thankfully the people in the other car weren’t hurt, but they were thinking about pressing charges. Sam didn’t talk when the officer questioned you both.

Father Duffy arrived and spoke to the people in the car and to the officer, you heard him explain both of your 'circumstances' and personal issues, pleading that no charges would be pressed. The word of priest, known in the community seemed to help your case.

We were allowed to leave, but Sam still didn’t say a word to you on the drive back to St.Francis, not that he could get a word in, Father Duffy was furious, you’d never seen him this mad.

“Do you guys want to end up in juvy? Because that’s what’s in the cards for you two if you keep acting like this. You could’ve got someone killed, gotten yourselves killed!”

_Does he hate me? He must do. I almost got him killed. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid!_

We were sent to our dorms, you made an excuse about wanting to go to the chapel, to 'ask for forgiveness', Sister Lousia allowed it.

When you got there it was empty. You sat in the pews, it was dark save for the candles. You sat and waited for Sam to show up, you even prayed for it.

* * *

You felt a hand on your shoulder, waking you up. It was Sam. You didn’t realise how exhausted you were from the day's events, falling asleep in a really uncomfortable position in the hard wooden pews.

“Sam!” you leapt up from the pew, throwing your arms around him, he winced in pain. “I’m sorry,” you said, pulling away, seeing Sam’s troubled expression.

“I’m really sorry,” you continued looking down at your shoes. You could feel the lump in your throat getting bigger, you tried to hold back the tears but you couldn’t, “I’m so sorry Sam, you must hate me,” you wept.

“Hey, hey don’t cry. I don’t hate you,” You looked at him, trying to smile, to reassure you, but he was shaken you could see it. “Listen I-” he sighed. “I had a lot of fun. I just-” he sighed again “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt. Pulling you from the car I-” he turned away and coughed, running his hands through his hair. “Let’s just not get caught next time okay?”

“Okay,” you said hopefully, wiping the tears from your eyes and the snot from your nose.

“C’mon let's get out of here. I’m sure Sister Christine will have our butts in those pews from sun-up till sun-down for the rest of the year.” You followed him as he stood up and made his way to leave, you stopped him before the big wooden doors.

“If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll beat you up,” you threatened jokingly. Sam mimed zipping his lips shut. “Sam? I really am sorry I got you in this much trouble.”

“I got in the car didn’t I?”

“Still I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/N), you’re my best friend, I think I’d pretty much follow you anywhere.” and he walked off towards the dorms. That night, you couldn’t sleep, thinking about where you and Sam might go next.


End file.
